


the north wind (i love you, malcontent)

by havisham



Series: havisham's SASO 2017 works collection [14]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, M/M, Possession, but also because he cares for that little shit, look victor may or may not be an evil ghost but he's invested in how yuri turns out, so he can eventually steal yuri's body true
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 15:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11107308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Victor blew into Yuri’s life like the North Wind, stealing the breath from his lips.





	the north wind (i love you, malcontent)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017, Round 1.5: AUs, for the [prompt](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21931.html?thread=11113131#cmt11113131): Victor &/ Yuri, Yuuri &/ Yuri. At 11, Yuri Plisetsky doesn't understand why nobody else sees the blood stains on the ice, or the sad man with the long gray hair either. Victor latches onto Yuri and forces him to pick up skating, which Yuri is technically great at but has no passion for at all until he goes to his first Grand Prix and faces off against impossibly introverted but achingly beautiful Katsuki Yuuri. BAM ETERNAL RIVALS. __
> 
> _WHAT A PROMPT RIGHT. MY GOD. I'm having palpitations!!_

Yuri met Victor for the first time when he was eleven. He knew right away that Victor was unusual -- there was no one else in Yuri’s life who was so pale and had such long, long hair -- or thin red scars that ran up and down his arms. Victor blew into Yuri’s life like the North Wind, stealing the breath from his lips. 

Yuri dreamed about ice cracking beneath him and blood, hot and sticky, seeping through.

It was all Victor’s fault, of course. 

Yuri had known Victor was dead from the first time he'd seen him. 

*

“Yuri, why don't you skate more?” When Victor asked, it wasn't an innocent question. He was leaning against Yuri, his hair tickling the side of Yuri’s face. “You're good at it. With the right training, you'd be the best.” 

“What did being the best ever give you?” Yuri spat out and watched as Victor’s face crumpled for a moment before he bounced back with a bland smile. 

A month later, Yuri was enrolled in Yakov Feltman’s summer train camp for prospective skaters. There could be no denying that he was talented, phenomenally so. 

“You only started a year ago?” Yakov asked him suspiciously. “How is it possible? I cannot coach you if you lie to me.” 

“Yakov is so distrustful,” Victor said, waggling his fingers in front of Yakov’s face. Yakov blinked, unseeing. “He's weighing on whether it would be worth it to train you, or if you'll throw it all away as I did.” 

“Coach me or don't,” Yuri said, his eyes trained on Yakov’s face, not allowing himself to be distracted by Victor’s foolishness -- here, he was already pulling faces at him, like a child -- “but you will regret it if I go somewhere else and become a champion for them.” 

There was a giant, framed portrait of Victor mounted just outside the doors of Yakov’s office. Yuri came out of the meeting and was confronted by it. The picture had been taken shortly after Victor’s first Grand Prix win. He was only a little older than Yuri himself. 

He beamed at the camera, his young face fresh and joyous. Was there some bit of anxiety behind his bright blue eyes? It was hard to tell. 

Yuri glared at the portrait. He hated Victor, for killing himself, for dying alone and and then haunting _him_ , seeping into him bit by bit. If Victor had his way, he would live again and there would be nothing of Yuri left. 

*

“Yuri, you're going to miss practice,” Victor said lightly, floating above Yuri’s bed. 

“Why don't you die for real!” Yuri said, throwing a pillow through Victor’s feet. 

*

Yuri had a late debut for the Grand Prix -- he was seventeen and already most of the skaters his age had been there before. But, as Yakov said, Yuri was playing catch up with all of them. They had been skating since they were able to walk. Yuri had breezed into Yakov’s office some years ago and demanded to learn how to skate properly. 

And Yuri didn't like skating, not really. It was Victor who was pushing him along, Victor who always insisted that Yuri try. Sometimes he felt the pressure of Victor hovering over him as he skated and knew that if given a chance, Victor would slip in and never let go. 

*

Yuri was to skate last for his short program, so he settled in to see what his competitors would do. Katsuki Yuuri was next, Japan’s ace. Yuri has seen some videos of his skating, but they had never competed against each other before. 

He watched Katsuki skate and forgot about everything else. 

*

“Isn’t he good? Isn’t he divine? Aren’t you glad you listened to me when I told you not to quit?” Even for Victor, this was too much, too quickly. But he wouldn’t stop chattering until Yuri hissed aloud. “Shut up! I’m up next.” 

People turned to look at him curiously. Yuri hunched over for a moment before he realized it was better to stand straight and stare back. 

*

He skated well, but not as well as Katsuki. 

And for the first time in a long time, Yuri cared. He wanted to win -- he wanted to beat Katsuki! 

Silver wasn’t good enough -- next time he would get gold. 

*

Yuri barrelled into the crowd surrounding the buffet table and grabbed something to eat. His stomach was making loud, embarrassing sounds, so he had to be loud and embarrassing to cover up for it. Then he caught sight of Katsuki at the edge of the room, looking for escape routes. That would not stand. 

“Katsuki!” Yuri bellowed, pointing at him. “I want to talk to you!” 

Katsuki looked like a deer in the headlights, too startled to flee. 

*

It was later, Yuri sat down with Katsuki on one of the banquet tables he’d dragged out to a deserted part of the ballroom -- Katsuki had declined, the spoilsport, and sat on one of the chairs -- that Yuri asked him if he remembered Victor Nikiforov.

Katsuki looked startled, and said with sudden passion, “Of course I remember Victor! I idolized him! He was my inspiration to skate! You -- were probably too young when he died, to really know what an impact he had.” 

It was then Victor decided to reappear, having been absent since the short program had started. He looked smugly down at Yuri. 

Yuri scowled. “I know him well enough.” 

At Katsuki’s puzzled look, Yuri said, “I mean, I know him well enough to know that I’m going to surpass him. That’s what I meant.” 

“Ah,” Katsuki said. “Well, he _is_ dead --” 

“Oh no, Yuuri, how could you say that?” gasped Victor. 

“Very dead,” Yuri said grimly. 

“But in many ways, you’re continuing on his legacy, aren’t you? Yakov seems to think so.” 

“What if I made you forget about Victor?” Yuri said suddenly, standing up. 

“Ah?” Katsuki said, “What are you --?” 

But whatever he was going to say was swallowed up by Yuri’s kiss. When he pulled away, Katsuki was looking at him, astonished. 

“Next time, you’ll be thinking of me when you skate.” 

With those fateful words, Yuri made his exit. Victor hovered behind him, chortling to himself. “See? You’ve made an eternal rival! All thanks to me. You’re lucky, Yuri.” 

“I don’t want your leftovers, old man,” Yuri growled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. That was a lie. Victor laughed, because he knew it and knew that Yuri did as well. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [North Wind](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/north-wind) by Lola Ridge.


End file.
